Running Up That Hill
by LithiumReaper
Summary: In the aftermath of the destruction of the Warehouse, the discovery of an entirely new artifact brings even more trouble down on the team, trouble that will unite or divide them. Spoilers for Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

_**Running Up That Hill**_

_Prelude:_

The entire room is quiet. She had no idea where she was, all she knew was that her arms were aching and her legs were about to give out. Her fingers were shaking and no matter what she told herself, it had_ nothing_ to do with the temperature.

"If you just tell me, I might let you go." A voice drawled from somewhere to her left, or was it her right? She had no idea if she was vertical or horizontal anymore. She lost track of time, and the fact that there was a rather large black hood over her head didn't help much with the time issue.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice sounded like sandpaper from disuse. All he did was chuckle. The punch to her gut came out of nowhere and left her wheezing for air.

"I'm going to ask one last time. What happened after the explosion?" Still wheezing, she managed to get a few words out.

"I died." Silence rained down on her. She couldn't even detect any movement.

"Yet _here_ you are." Her captor said finally. The punch smacked into her side and she could swear she felt her ribs crack.

"TELL ME!" The next punch landed on her jaw. The one following that jostled her entire body as he punched her with force on the side of her head. Sounds were getting fuzzy and she would bet that if she could see anything, her vision would have gone fuzzy as well. Fighting to stay awake was becoming a losing battle. Her knees had already wobbled and the strain on her shoulders and wrists were becoming too much to bear.

Darkness was creeping up on her, and just before it consumed her entirely she heard her captor speak for the last time.

"Put her in the machine. I want to know what happened."

_***13*13*13*13***_

Pete and Myka burst through the side door only to be greeted by complete darkness.

"See if you can find a light switch." Myka said softly, but somehow she knew he was already on it. Pulling her flashlight out, she levelled it with the tesla. The image that greeted her as soon as the lights flickered on nearly made her heart stop.

"Pete…" Myka said her partner's name softly, so softly she wasn't even sure he'd heard her. Pete flew past her toward the figure hanging from the ceiling. Pulling the hood from the figure's head, Myka felt her eyes bulge and practically ran the ten paces toward Pete and helped him lift the woman's lifeless body off of the meat hook.

Her arms were blue and there was blood on her face. Myka's hands trembled with such force that Pete moved her hands away so that he could untie the woman's hands himself.

"Pete? Is she-"

"Just help me with her legs." Pete barked as he slid the woman's arms down to her sides before helping Myka untie her legs. The moment the woman's legs were free, Pete fumbled with the collar of her shirt to feel for a pulse.

"Pete?" Myka's voice sounded tiny and unnatural to Pete's ears. Claudia and Artie came to a quite audible halt in the doorway. Pete could feel Claudia's eyes on him and raised his head so he could look her in the eye. He could tell Claudia already knew, as did Artie. The moment he took hold of Claudia's upper arm to keep her standing confirmed it. His sincere act of support failed as Claudia sank to the ground the same moment Pete's voice rang out across all of them.

"She's dead."

_***13*13*13*13***_

**A/N:** Okay, so this is my first attempt at a _'Warehouse 13'_ story. This is the prelude, as you've seen, and I'm seeing this as a little bit of a trial run. If the feedback is good, I'll continue it. But if the feedback is not, I won't torture you by keeping it.

Reviews are most welcome, as are suggestions! Reviews give me the happy dance, they really do! :D


	2. Coming To Terms

_I don't own anything regarding Warehouse 13, just the computer this was written on. The song in this chapter is 'Coming to terms' by Carolina Liar (And no, I don't own it either). In 1969 Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote a book "On Death and Dying". We know it today as the five stages of grief. I don't own that either._

_**Five months earlier…**_

_**Coming to terms.**_

_10 Days since Steve's death, 9 days since the destruction of the Warehouse._

Someone once said that when you hit rock bottom getting up is easier because you've got so much less to lose. Whoever that was needs to be smacked upside the head, with a frying pan or something equally hard. Crack that head like an _egg_. Claudia stared at all the various items littering her room. Her bed was unmade and dishes were piled up on every conceivable surface. How she managed that, only the dirt gnomes will ever know. There was an array of personal effects strewn on the floor, but what had caught Claudia's eye was the photo's she put up with tape next to her printer. The stupid song he liked was stuck in her head. The one she wouldn't hear again since she started using it as his ringtone. The photo was staring at her. Mocking her silently.

Steve had bullied her into buying proper frames for her photos. He even suggested she nail them to the wall. The frames were outside her bedroom door, the glass of one had shattered when she tossed it out before slamming her bedroom door. The nails and the hammer were tossed haphazardly under her bed. Claudia pulled her knees to her chest and snagged the photo of her and Steve, bringing up to her nose. Tears pooled in her eyes and she flung the photo back onto the desk like it had burned her hand. Steve's gone. No use getting all sentimental _now_.

Yes, she happened to be well aware of the steps that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote in 1969 on death and dying. She read it. Twice. It's easy to list the stages until you have to go through them to get your life back. But Claudia wasn't sure she wanted her life back. She lost someone she truly loved and cared about. Steve was the first to tell her honestly that people trust her and have faith in her. Sure, she'd heard it before from Pete and Myka, and sometimes even from _Artie_, but hearing it from someone that was still so new to the team... Someone who didn't know her, or judge what little he knew about her. But he's gone now. And no matter what she does, he's not coming back. For so long she'd looked for Joshua, and she found him. He came back.

If she was being honest with herself, Claudia knew she was feeling all five steps at once, which is impossible, but still possible. Total _Warehouse_ moment, right? She could feel the questions rise within her. What if Steve is caught in some vortex, like Joshua was? She'd find him, open the proverbial door and bring him back. But Steve is _somewhere_ she can't just barge in and snatch him back. He's dead. He's not coming back. No longer able to keep her tears back, Claudia sank her head down onto her knees and wept. Again.

_***13*13*13*13***_

Claudia wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep. All she knew is that she had a crick in her neck, her knees were stiff and her back was killing her. It wasn't however the horrible sleeping position that woke her up, it happened to be the sound of knuckles tentatively, almost nervously tapping on her door. Leena's soft voice drifted through the wood.

"Claudia? Artie's downstairs. He wants to talk to us." Claudia could almost smell the tension Leena was trying to hide. Clearing her voice, Claudia called back a simple reply.

"I'll be right down." She could hear Leena's _'okay'_ from the other side of the door, but in all honesty, she had stopped listening the moment she finished speaking. Stretching her legs out in front of her and hearing the cracking her knees made, Claudia stood up slowly and stretched her back and cracked her neck the way she had seen Pete do when he was stressed.

Claudia sighed and rubbed her hands over her face before catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She was still wearing her pajama bottoms and the baseball jersey she had stolen from Steve's room. She doesn't go in there anymore.

_Oh no, it's not me  
>I just forgot to tell you<br>Didn't mean, it seems obscene  
>We just lost track along the way<em>

Seeing no sense in changing, Claudia headed downstairs. The place was awkwardly quiet. She could hear Artie shuffling in the living room and Pete's coughing alerted her to the fact that they were all just waiting for her. Claudia reached the living room and stood tentatively in the doorway. Artie looked up from the file in his hand, almost as if sensing her presence. He gave her a sad smile, which looked more like a grimace. Myka smiled a little wider and beckoned her over to the couch. Pete didn't do anything, he just picked at his nails, which, by the way, were non-existent at this point in time.

"Straight to business." Artie said as Claudia sat on the seat closest to the doorway, ready to bolt the exact moment that she would feel tears creep up on her like a bad hangover. Myka's smile faltered slightly, but she buried her disappointment almost as quickly as it had surfaced. Leena was standing behind the couch Pete and Myka were sitting on.

"I've been talking to some of my contacts, and I think I may have found a way to restore the Warehouse." Claudia's head snapped up as a flicker of hope emerged. Pete beat her to the punch though.

"So we can bring Mrs. Frederic and Steve back?" Artie looked like someone kicked him in the gut.

"Mrs. Frederic died when the Warehouse was destroyed, so chances are slim that if we find this restoration artifact and restore the Warehouse, Mrs. Frederic might come back as well. As for Agent Jinks…" Artie trailed off before clearing his throat and continuing.

"He did not die _in_ the Warehouse _or_ die _because_ of the Warehouse. It's unlikely that he would, erm, be…_ resurrected_." Artie looked down at his shoes. Claudia could feel her anger rising by just looking at this simple nervous habit of Artie's.

"So it's a _no_ then." She heard herself say. Artie's head snapped to her and for a fleeting moment she felt bad for the way she had spoken to him. He always felt like such a dad to her, but not even talking to her about _Steve_? That's just mean, and majorly uncalled for. Before she could even say anything else, Artie started speaking again.

"My contact tells me that the last time anyone heard of the artifact was back in 1981in Russia. He said he would meet us at the airport and help us to the best of his abilities. We leave in three hours. I suggest you pack warmly." Artie finished as he handed Pete and Myka their tickets along with their individual copies of the file on the artifact.

"I'm not going with you, am I?" Claudia asked; her voice was controlled. No anger detectable. Nice job Claude. Artie was doing that nervous foot shuffle again.

"I… I didn't think you would want to join us." Artie replied. Claudia only snorted and rose to her feet.

"No Artie, I just lost my best friend and partner, Mrs. Frederic died in front of me, H.G. is dead and the Warehouse was blown into bits. I didn't just lose _everything_ I love. Just cut me out, ignore me. My pain isn't worth the same as _yours_." Claudia spun around and headed back up the stairs. She was quite proud of herself that she didn't scream at them, or pounded her feet into the carpeted stairs. She almost felt bad for the way she spoke to Artie. _Almost._

Claudia could hear muffled voices before she closed her bedroom door behind her. Wiping at her eyes, Claudia swore softly at the state of her room and her person. She was just about to start cleaning up the scattered dishes when she heard a knock on the door and Myka's head peeked in.

"Claude? Can I talk to you for a second?" Claudia only grunted in response as Myka closed the door.

"Artie's really hurt Claude. He won't show it, but he's really hurt. I know you went through a lot these past two weeks, but we've all lost someone we care about." Claudia averted her eyes and stared at the cream colored wall behind Myka's head.

"When Sam was killed-" Claudia felt something inside her snap.

"Get out." She practically growled. Myka stood wide eyed staring at Claudia, her mouth open a fraction in disbelief.

"Claudia, I didn't-"

"Get. Out." Claudia said again and verbal diarrhea just _attacked_.

"I'm _so_ sick and tired when you start talking about Sam. He's dead, has been for nearly four years now Myka. We left you to deal with it. We didn't badger you when you went all _crazy cow_ on Pete. Get over it. I'm not some kid you can talk into feeling bad. And you're right, I saw a lot of things happen to people I care about, we all did. But for God's sake, stop feeling bad for yourself about shit I have no interest in. I'm not going to feel bad because your boyfriend is dead. I've got my own problems. Now get out." Claudia yanked the door open and practically pushed Myka out the door and slamming it in her face.

_I'm coming to terms, I'm starting to learn  
>This ain't all it's cracked up to be<br>'Cause I'm using you, you're using me  
>It's never as easy as we believe<em>

She felt like screaming and breaking something. No, she's not going to let this get her down. She had to find a way to bring him back. There was no way she would put all her eggs into the restoration artifact. It's not going to bring him back. He's not dead. She'll find a way. She has to. _Step one: Denial and Isolation._

_***13*13*13*13***_

She didn't hear them leave. She didn't care to either. Maybe Leena had told them to leave her alone, or, heaven forbid, _Myka_ did. That could be seen as noble of Myka. She didn't want anyone else to suffer under her poisonous tongue. Claudia shook her head as thoughts of Steve started creeping up on her again and instead of letting them, she started cleaning her room. A messy work space is of the bad. Claudia went all out. She changed the sheets, vacuumed the rug and took the tower of dishes to the kitchen. She even opened the windows so she could air the place. The smell of dirty skin and tears was rather overwhelming.

After taking a long and hot shower, Claudia closed herself off in her room again. She turned her music on and opened her email. She wasn't surprised when there was an email from Joshua. Sighing loudly, Claudia opened it.

_What's going on Claw?  
>Artie called and told me what happened. Why didn't you tell me?<br>I asked for some off time. I'll be there in a week.  
>Hang in there.<br>Joshua_

Claudia didn't even reply. She just deleted it and started working. She loves Joshua to death, but she can't deal with the giant pity party that was being directed her way by not only her own brother, but by her friends too. She can't think about just how _dead_ Steve is. Or about the cold and lifeless look his eyes had. She can't think about the way his hand had gradually lost color and warmth. That's why she cleaned up, why she cleaned her room. He's not going to be gone for long. He'll be back soon.

_***13*13*13*13***_

_14 Days since Steve's death, 13 days since the destruction of the Warehouse._

Claudia felt like a useless brat. Pete sent her regular texts to update her on their search, but she hasn't heard anything from Artie or Myka. But isn't that what she wanted? She wanted them to leave her alone, but include her in everything too. Pulling on her hair, Claudia felt like she was going to go insane.

She was nowhere closer to figuring out how to bring Steve back. The internet had let her down for the very first time in_ ever_. Falling down on her bed, fresh tears streaming down her face even before she realized that she was crying. Claudia rocked herself to sleep in the hopes of escaping her miserable life, but even that wasn't destined to be.

"_You're real. You're also lying."_

"_What? No, no, I- I have no training."_

"_No, not about the training. About caring about the training." Steve smiled and continued._

"_Artie. You wanna impress him."_

"_Yes! Angela Lansbury, you've solved the mystery!" Steve grinned and shifted in his seat._

"_Then don't do this to him Claude. You need them now more than ever."_

_Claudia felt herself have a 'wait, what?' moment. This isn't how the conversation went. All she could do was gape at Steve as he gave her a toothy grin. His skin slowly drained of color and his eyes were going lifeless._

"_Don't do this to them Claude." He repeated before sinking lifelessly into the seat. Claudia felt a scream rip through her chest as she moved over to him._

Only when she reached Steve, she was sitting bolt upright in bed, her clothes clinging to her and her hair plastered against her forehead. Claudia started crying in earnest. Again. God, how she hates _crying_. It was like the Niagra Falls was running from her eyes. Either that or her bladder had taken up permanent residence under her eyes, which is just, you know, gross.

Claudia felt her fingers shaking as she let out a tank of sobs. Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. That was one of her very best memories of him. He'd listened to her. He didn't judge her about having spent time in an institution, or the fact that she wanted to impress Artie. He just smiled and nodded. He made her laugh, and now he was making her cry. He's such a bastard. Why did he have to go and do what he did? Why didn't he just tell Mrs. Frederic to stuff it? He didn't care, did he? He didn't have anybody else. Sure, with his sister being dead and all, he figured doing something as idiotic as going out on this stupid fucking mission and getting himself killed was a brilliant idea. What a bastard!

Claudia felt anger spike within her from an unknown place. An anger she didn't know she could possess. Grabbing the lamp off the bedside table, Claudia hurled it at the wall, effectively flinging ceramic and paint chips everywhere. She couldn't care less as she stood up from her bed causing the ceramic to cut her feet. Claudia pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, hell bent on using this sudden rage and buildup of wrathful energy. _Pancakes_. Yes, pancakes always made Pete feel better, and watching him gobble it up always made her feel better. She'd make pancakes.

That's what Leena found her doing three hours later.

"Claudia?" Leena said her name in such a manner as one would speak to a child that is about to chomp your hand off.

"Leena?" Claudia sarcastically replied.

"What are you doing?" Leena tried again.

"Making pancakes. What does it _look like_?" Claudia figured she was being a complete and total bitch, but couldn't bring herself to care.

"I can see that. Why are you making pancakes at seven in the morning?"

"Well Leena, I'm making pancakes because I'm so angry I could strangle a tiger." When Leena didn't reply, Claudia continued.

"Why'd he do this to us Leena? He knew we would do anything for him. Why would he just throw us away like we didn't matter at all? He's such a selfish bastard. I can't believe we were ever friends, that I ever trusted him. But he's dead now, so he can't fight back and it just pisses me off Leena! He should be here, and he just gave it all up." Claudia flung the empty glass bowl into the sink, shattering that as well.

"He doesn't get to just check out!" Tattle tale tears were becoming known again.

'_Cause this hurts, I can't leave  
>I understand, but can you?<br>I'm just scared, you're lonely  
>Everyone knows you're better than me<em>

Leena moved toward Claudia slowly, reaching her hand out tentatively. Claudia just shrugged her off and started cleaning up the various bits of glass from the sink.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll clean up?" Leena offered, but Claudia shook her head and stormed out of the kitchen. _Step two: Anger._

_***13*13*13*13***_

_15 Days since Steve's death, 14 days since the destruction of the Warehouse._

Leena was starting to bug her. Ever since the pancake incident yesterday, Leena has been bugging her. _Annoyingly_. Claudia had just sat down on the porch when Leena came outside and handed her a mug of green tea. She freaking hates this stuff, but drinks it anyway. This lot gets mighty annoying if she doesn't. Even Steve got a bug up his ass if she refused. Claudia is the first to speak, causing Leena to look at her with pity in her eyes.

"Do you think if we got there quicker that he would still be alive?" Claudia asked in a small voice that was so unlike her. Leena didn't try and touch her again. Good call. Claudia wasn't sure what she would do of Leena touched her now.

"Could we have saved him?" Claudia asked again. _Step three: Bargaining._

"Do you remember a while back there was this music video that people were insane about? I don't remember the song, or the band for that matter, but the video stuck with me. It was about a guy who could see timers above the heads of people. There were many he couldn't save, and then that one girl he could. I think this the same as that, Claudia. You can't save everybody, but there will be that one person that you can save. Steve wasn't that person, but it doesn't mean that you didn't try. You couldn't have stopped his death Claudia. His timer hit empty."

_I'm coming to terms, I'm starting to learn  
>This ain't all it's cracked up to be<br>'Cause I'm using you, you're using me  
>It's never as easy as we believe<em>

For a long time Claudia didn't speak. There were no words to be found; no words to be made into a sentence that made sense; a sentence that could convey her thoughts; because heaven only knew, Claudia had no idea what to say or think anymore. Finally she sagged against Leena and cried. Again. _Step four: Depression._

_***13*13*13*13***_

_17 Days since Steve's death, 16 days since the destruction of the Warehouse._

Joshua's coming today. Steve and Joshua would have gotten along like cookies and icing. Claudia felt sadness well in her chest again. This seemed to be a daily occurrence. Each morning she would wake up, an abominable amount of grief and sadness pressing down on her chest. Some mornings it would press down so hard that she would have to catch her breath every few minutes. Today, she felt a little lighter. She missed Joshua. He would most definitely know what to say to her, or at least keep her busy long enough so she wouldn't or couldn't think about Steve.

Leena had taken to freezing the extra pancakes she had made in her _crazy cow_ moment. There are enough pancakes in the freezer to feed Pete for a week. Yeah, told you. Crazy cow moments don't usually result in such productiveness. Claudia flung the covers back and made her bed. (Which, f.y.i. is not something she does. _Ever.)_ She's just being helpful, which again, eeuw.

Getting dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that said "I have this ability to annoy strangers", pairing it with her Doc Martins and fuzzing her hair up just enough to not look like sex hair. She'd awoken with this brilliant idea, which Joshua was not going to like, but he can suck it. Claudia Donovan does what she wants, come hell or high water. Or big explosions, yeah, she can totally work around those.

Claudia was just finishing up her make up when Leena knocked on her door and peeked in.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, just gimme a minute." Claudia replied, giving Leena a small smile. Claudia looked around her room when that song popped into her head again, this time with gusto as Claudia looked at the photo she had re-taped to her printer. Her teeth clattered together as she bit down a small batch of tears.

_Is this what you need?  
>Am I what you need?<br>I'm coming to terms, I'm starting to learn  
>This ain't all it's cracked up to be<br>'Cause I'm using you, you're using me  
>It's never as easy as we believe<em>

Grabbing her bag, Claudia headed down the stairs after Leena, whom she found in the kitchen.

"Texting, really? Never pegged you as a _texter,_ Leena." Claudia teased and smiled when Leena blushed and tucked her phone away.

"I'm not a 'texter'. I was just checking when your brother's flight was due to land."

"Uh hu. Let's just say I believe you, which I don't by the way, we should get going. We don't want the Josh-meister to be kept waiting." Leena giggled and nodded, grabbing the keys and heading to the door.

"Hey Leena, I have an idea. But I need your help restraining my brother." Claudia called after the woman as she exited the B&B. Leena chuckled and shook her head in a motherly way at Claudia's peskiness, secretly very happy that she appeared to be back to her old self, well _mostly_ back to her old self.

_***13*13*13*13***_

"Under no circumstances are you getting a tattoo!" Joshua was practically yelling from the backseat.

"Well tough love brother dear. _The Claw_ has made up her mind. I'm getting one."

"Referring to yourself in the third person again Claw? Leena, help me out here! You can't seriously condone this behavior." Leena giggled slightly and shook her head.

"She's your sister Joshua. _You_ deal with it." Claudia stuck her tongue out at Joshua and blew a strawberry and grinned when Joshua huffed and flopped back against the seat, muttering under his breath.

"What's that brother bear?"

"_I SAID_ I should have never left for Cern without you. You've gone complete Neanderthal on me." Both Leena and Claudia laughed at Joshua's comment.

"Oh no Joshua, I've been monkey lady for a long time. You've just closed your eyes and looked past it." Claudia grinned causing Joshua to crack up. He stopped however when they pulled into the parking lot and stopped a few stores down from the tattoo parlor.

"You're serious about this?" Joshua asked one last time. Claudia nodded in agreement and pushed the car door open.

"I'll be right in; I have a quick call to make." Leena told Claudia.

Claudia nodded and pulled Joshua out of the car when his feet began lagging.

Leena pulled her phone out and dialed Pete's number. He's a phone nut, and luckily answered on the second ring.

"_Leena? Is everything okay?"_ Leena smiled at the worried tone in his voice and jumped to reassure him.

"Yeah, everything is okay. We just picked Joshua up from the airport. Nice move by getting him to tell Claudia that Artie called him and not you." Pete gave a little chuckle on the other end of the line.

"_Yeah, let's just hope that never comes back to bite me. How is she?"_ Leena chewed her lip as she saw Claudia and Joshua finally enter the parlor.

"I think she's finally accepted that she can't bring him back. The artifact she used didn't work, and I think it had a bad influence on her acceptance. But for a survivor she's reached the new stage scarily quickly." Leena could see Pete scratching the back of his neck.

"_But she's okay now, right? She doesn't know that the Regents took his body to their headquarters, does she?"_ Leena bit her lip and frowned. She never liked keeping secrets.

"No, she doesn't know. I understand why she can't know Pete, but somewhere along the line she's going to ask where we buried him, and then what do we tell her? Do we just say 'No Claudia, we didn't bury him; The Regents took him and burned his body but won't tell us why.' Is this what we've been _reduced_ to Pete?" Leena asked softly.

"_I don't like lying to her, but this could get much worse if she went digging where she shouldn't be digging. You know she's like a bloodhound. I promise you, as soon as Artie finds out why they took him, I'll let you know. You have my word Leena."_ Pete replied.

"I'm keeping you to it. Give Myka and Artie my love, okay?" Leena smiled at Pete's bright okay and could hear him hollering her message even before he hung up. Getting out of the car, Leena felt sadness overcome her. Somewhere down the line this sneakiness of the Regents is going to come back and bite them in the behind. She's not so sure Claudia would be as forgiving as people seem to think she is.

_***13*13*13*13***_

Claudia was already sitting in the uncomfortable leather seat that squeaked when she moved by the time Leena joined them. Joshua was looking a little green around the edges when Leena asked him.

"What is she getting?" Joshua gave a soft smile when he looked at Leena and back at Claudia, love, pity and acceptance in his eyes.

"SJ 03-10-2011." _Step five: Acceptance_

_***13*13*13*13***_

_**A/N:**_ Okay, so there's chapter one. I wanted to get this part with Claudia out of the way so I could focus on the comings and goings of the team in Russia. I liked writing this bit about Claudia. She just looks like one of those who would act this way. I know you won't all agree with me, but leave me a review anyway and tell me what you think! Claudia will play a large role in this story, but it is a Pete and Myka centered one, so it will happen. Eventually. _Just not now_. We've got some major ground to cover before any smoochies are remotely written.

Okay, so next up is basically a simple continuation of chapter one in Russia.

I hope you guys liked this chapter. Please drop me a review with your thoughts and/or suggestions. They give me the happy dance! :D _No really, they do O.o_


	3. Something to die for

_This covers the first half of Claudia's chapter. I don't own anything related to Warehouse 13 or Star Trek. I just own the plot to this story and the PC it was written on._

_**Something to die for.**_

Every person has a moment in their life where they are faced with a question. A question that forces open eyes and hearts. A question that hurts. Myka sipped on her cup of coffee as her thoughts seemed to be taking hold of her. It had happened again, and she was quite silly enough to think that it wouldn't happen again and again. She did work for the government, and people dying in front of you happened to be listed under reasons for 'danger pay'.

Finding out that Sam's death was caused by an artifact had hurt. It wasn't the kind of hurt where you rip off a bandage and the pain is excruciating and then goes away as quickly as it had arrived. It's the kind of pain that felt like getting stitches without anesthesia. It's the pain that begins with a bang and just doesn't seem to be able to end, even long after the stitches have been bandaged and pain medication stuffed down your throat.

But, as Myka realized, losing Helena was different all together. They had grown to be friends when H.G. had joined the Warehouse again. They had girl moments together, they drank coffee and ate ice cream. Myka introduced Helena to the famous chick flick cliché, and they had both enjoyed the look on Pete's face as he had, _quite literally_, ran from the room. Helena had even realized something about Myka before _Myka_ had.

Losing Helena was different. She had already mourned their friendship when she quit from the Warehouse. As Helena wanted to destroy everything she held dear. Even as she drove away, seeing Pete's anguish didn't make her turn back. Helena had hurt her, had ripped her confidence in herself and her job to shreds. There would be no way she could, _or would_, trust her again. But then she had come back, granted she was a hologram, but she had helped them. She tried to atone for her misdeeds.

But even as hard as Helena might have tried, Myka wouldn't forgive her. She couldn't allow herself. Helena had triggered that aspect in Myka where she shut everybody out, including Pete. _Insufferable_ Pete. _Adorable_ Pete who would stuff his mouth with pancakes and show her the half-eaten food inside his mouth just to get her to laugh at him. He'd always do that. And she would always hate Helena for taking that away from her. She would always hate her for taking the ability to allow Pete to make her feel better away from her.

But then she had gone and tried to be all noble and save their lives by sacrificing herself. That would be her _final_ atonement, Myka mused. She gave her life to save Pete, Artie and herself. Myka bit her lip as anger reared its ugly head. Helena had caused so many deaths already, and dared to think that saving them would make up for the many who would never see the light of day again.

Steve would never bounce into the room and grin at all of them, even though he had no real reason to bounce or grin. Mrs. Frederic would never show up and scare the hell out of them at random. H.G. was to blame for this, all of this. Myka drained her mug and headed over to the sink, taking her time rinsing out her mug. She needs to forget about all of this, she needs to look past her anger. She still had Artie and Pete, and Leena and Claudia, even though the latter hasn't been out of her room in days now, she still had more to be thankful for than most.

"Myks? Did you turn your Pete radar off?" Myka turned quickly from the sink to find Pete standing on the other side of the breakfast counter.

"Sorry. I was just thinking." Myka replied feeling slightly embarrassed that her heart had gone all flip flop at the sound of Pete's voice.

"Yeah, I could tell. Steam was coming from your ears." Pete joked and Myka felt the corners of her mouth pull up in a slight smile.

"Milk?" Pete asked as he walked over to the fridge. Myka couldn't help but grin at him.

"Drink of champions." Pete mused as he pulled the fridge door open.

"I just had coffee. I'm good." Myka replied and leaned back against the counter as Pete started rummaging through the fridge. That's one thing that will never change. Pete will _NEVER_ stop eating. It's like he has worms or something.

"The Regents just left with Mrs. Frederic." Pete said softly as he closed the fridge, holding the milk container in his hand. Myka felt all the blood drain from her face.

"Where's Artie?" Myka managed to croak out. Her mouth had gone dry and a lump the size of Texas had formed in her throat.

"He didn't want to be here when they took her. I suppose I understand why. I mean, they have been working together for a really long time, and to see her like that would ruin every memory Artie has of her."

"You're strangely insightful today. Where's Pete and what have you done to him?" Myka teased. Pete chuckled a bit and gave her a sad smile.

"Had to grow up some time."

_***13*13*13*13***_

Pete had wandered out of the kitchen soon after he saw Myka's grief make itself known on her face. She's one of those cool and collected people, whose emotions were just beneath the surface, but was so easily hid behind a mask of indifference. He wasn't like that. Pete Lattimer is a hardheaded, short tempered pain in the ass. Myka is the exact opposite. She's passionate, but reserved. Respected and relaxed. People always open up to her easily because they can identify with her. They can identify with the unbearable pain that hides behind her eyes. Pete? Not so much. Which is part of the reason why _Claudia_ seems to like him much more than she likes Myka.

Not saying she doesn't like Myka, but Myka pushes buttons Claudia didn't even know she had, and Pete, well Pete was comfortable enough to just sit in the same room with Claudia, giving her his presence as comfort, which is what she needs.

That's why Pete and Myka work so well together. They complement each other. Their traits fill each other up. If Artie needs to be sorted out, they send in Myka and if Claudia needs a broom removed from her ass, Pete is the man for the job. But right now_, right now_, their equilibrium seems to be out of sync. Myka has gone all broody and doesn't talk anymore. Artie isn't any better. He keeps making calls and doing research. Almost like he can't allow himself to sit down for a second for fear that he's going to fall apart.

And Claudia. _Claude_. She doesn't speak; she doesn't leave her room, _nothing_. Pete's not even sure if she's eating the food Leena leaves at her door three times a day. A few days ago, Leena had hammered his door down and begged him to talk to Claudia because she was crying uncontrollably and wouldn't let anyone into her room. Pete's not sure why, and he feels _quite_ bad, but Claudia let him into her room whereas Leena and Myka were yelled at and told to leave on threat of immense violence. He felt quite smug at the fact that she let him in, proof that she trusted _him_. Again, feeling quite bad about the smugness.

Claudia had sniffled, but hid under her covers like she was afraid of Pete. So he sat there, staring at the walls, the dishes and clothes littering the entire place. For hours, he sat there with Claudia, neither of them speaking. They didn't need to say anything, but when Claudia did speak, Pete felt his heart break just a little for the first time.

She told him just how much she misses Steve, so much she can almost not bear to breathe. That there is an ache in her chest that won't go away, that it feels like it won't ever go away. _It hurts to get out of bed_, she'd said. It hurts to move. The black hole in her chest was threatening to swallow her whole.

She confessed that she couldn't go into Steve's room anymore. His smell was everywhere and if she goes in there, his smell would be replaced by hers. She'd stolen one of his jerseys, to keep him close, and his smell had left that too. It made it real, he's gone and he won't be coming back at all. Claudia had turned her face into her pillow and sobbed. Pete just sat there, the lump in his throat growing. He'd sat and told her stories of the few times he had worked with Steve. He told her his _Star Trek _joke, where Steve had been given the role of Spock.

Claudia laughed. A good; pure; straight from the belly; honest to God laugh. Talking made Pete feel better. It gave Claudia the opportunity to listen to how much Steve was loved, not just by her, but by Pete also. Pete, the big lug who couldn't find his ass even though it was glued to him, loved Steve; missed Steve; mourned Steve. Claudia told him about the DIY she had planned with Steve. Showed him the picture frames, hammer and nails. When she started crying again, Pete took the hammer and nails and stowed it under her bed. Claudia nodded and took the frames and quite literally tossed them from the room, shattering the glass of the top one.

They sat quietly talking until the sun came up and Claudia fell asleep curled into a ball and holding Steve's jersey so close to her chest that it might fuse with her body. Pete felt bad for her, he felt bad for all of them. They had lost people they cared deeply for. He had lost people too, but mustering the _emotion_ to mourn would just not come. Pete couldn't be sad, couldn't be happy. He was numb, cliché as it might be he really felt numb.

Leena pulled him from his thoughts when she put her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly.

"Artie's here. He wants to talk to us." Pete nodded that he heard her. A few minutes later he walked down the stairs and into the living room to find Artie staring at the fireplace. There was no emotion on his face. The way his head was cocked to the side and his shoulders drooped, Pete knew he was exhausted.

"Artie, you wanted to see us?" Instantly Artie was on his feet and motioning Pete, Myka and Leena to sit on the sofa. Pete and Myka sat down; Leena seemed to have an aversion to the sofa and stood at the back. Pete felt bad that he didn't even notice Myka or Leena in the room when he entered, but his curiosity at his emotions was put on hold when Artie started speaking.

"The Regents took Agent Jinks and Mrs. Frederic to a facility across the country. They haven't told me why yet, but I'm determined to find out. I did however hear something about Agent Jinks' body-" Artie broke off and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"They had him cremated, but they refuse to tell me why." Myka's hand flew to her mouth as an audible gasp flew around the room. No one spoke for a long time.

"Leena, would you mind getting Claudia?" Artie asked in a tired voice. Leena nodded and stepped from the room.

"Artie, are you sure?" Myka asked in a small voice. Her lip was trembling as Pete reached over and took her hand in his. One thing he could always count on. His presence seemed to calm Myka down considerably.

"I'm as sure as I can be. Please, do not, I repeat, _do not_ tell Claudia about this. She's not handling Agent Jinks' death very well, and disclosing this information would most definitely do more harm than good." Pete and Myka could only nod. Leena returned and gave Artie a small nod, causing him to nod. Pete pulled his hand away from Myka's, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Myka's hand had pulled a little, resisting the loss but accepting it anyway. Claudia appeared in the doorway as Pete started chewing his nails.

He could almost feel Myka putting on a smile and patting the spot next to her in a gesture of _'Come sit next to me and we'll mourn together'_. Claudia would have none of it, obviously. _'That's my girl'_ Pete thought. Claudia didn't take Myka's offer and sat tentatively on the seat closest to the doorway. She's always ready to run. She'll never change now. Pete knew Myka's face would fall and stilled his moving hand when Leena touched his shoulder. There was a brief moment of silence before Artie started speaking. Pete just kept his head down and continued picking at his nails.

"Straight to business. I've been talking to some of my contacts, and I think I may have found a way to restore the Warehouse." Pete looked up when Artie started speaking, but the moment Claudia's head snapped up, his heart broke just a little more. Pete could see the wheels turning in her head, and spoke first. He'd much rather let Artie give a logical explanation to him, instead of a subjective explanation to Claudia.

"So we can bring Mrs. Frederic and Steve back?" Artie looked like someone kicked him in the gut.

"Mrs. Frederic died when the Warehouse was destroyed, so chances are slim that if we find this restoration artifact and restore the Warehouse, Mrs. Frederic might come back as well. As for Agent Jinks…" Artie trailed off before clearing his throat and continuing.

"He did not die _in_ the Warehouse _or_ die _because_ of the Warehouse. It's unlikely that he would, erm, be…_ resurrected_." Artie looked down at his shoes. Claudia's face was slowly turning pink.

"So it's a _no_ then." The silence in the room grew grave as Claudia stared Artie down. Artie loved this girl so much, but being a guy, and an old one at that, he didn't know how to show her how he adored her, how much he valued her, so he just continued speaking as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"My contact tells me that the last time anyone heard of the artifact was back in 1981in Russia. He said he would meet us at the airport and help us to the best of his abilities. We leave in three hours. I suggest you pack warmly." Artie finished as he handed Pete and Myka their tickets along with their individual copies of the file on the artifact.

"I'm not going with you, am I?" Claudia asked; her voice was controlled. No anger detectable. There was nothing to indicate that Claudia was still in there.

"I… I didn't think you would want to join us." Artie replied. Claudia only snorted and rose to her feet.

"No Artie, I just lost my best friend and partner, Mrs. Frederic died in front of me, H.G. is dead and the Warehouse was blown into bits. I didn't just lose _everything_ I love. Just cut me out, ignore me. My pain isn't worth the same as _yours_."

A look of pure anguish fell across Artie's face. Pete could see how deep Claudia's words had cut him. No one could say anything as Claudia stormed from the room. What could they say? How could they articulate a proper response to her pain? Myka rose and went after Claudia. Pete wanted to stop her, knowing that Claudia would only be mean to Myka. Myka's his friend, his partner. He couldn't possibly leave her to the mercy of an enraged and emotionally shattered teenager?

As he rose, Pete felt Leena's hand on his shoulder again as her soothing voice fell over him.

"Myka needs to speak to Claudia and vice versa. No matter how painful it might be, they both need this Pete."

Maybe Leena's right. Maybe they both need to be abused emotionally by the other. Pete Lattimer may be many things, may do many things, but he could not ignore the tug at his heart at the prospect of Myka falling under Claudia's grief induced poisonous tongue. _Lord, he needs a drink._

_***13*13*13*13***_

Myka heard Claudia close her bedroom door even before she reached the landing. She had this feeling that this wasn't going to end well. A feeling almost like the ones Pete got. Knocking on Claudia's door, Myka let herself in and closed the door behind her softly.

"Claude? Can I talk to you for a second?" Claudia only grunted in response as Myka took it as her signal to continue. This might be all she could get out of Claudia for the time being.

"Artie's really hurt Claude. He won't show it, but he's really hurt. I know you went through a lot these past two weeks, but we've all lost someone we care about." Claudia averted her eyes and stared at the cream colored wall behind Myka's head. Myka felt the words leave her mouth before she could stop them.

"When Sam was killed-" Claudia grew visibly stiff and practically growled at Myka.

"Get out." Myka stared at her with wide eyes, her mouth growing slack in shock. Claudia had never spoken so forcefully to anyone except Artie back when she was trying to get Joshua back. Myka tried to backtrack but Claudia cut her off again.

"Get. Out." Claudia said again with venom in her voice, continuing as if she hadn't even taken a breath between insults.

"I'm _so_ sick and tired when you start talking about Sam. He's dead, has been for nearly _four years_ now Myka. We left you to deal with it. We didn't badger you when you went all _crazy cow_ on Pete. Get over it. I'm not some kid you can talk into feeling bad. And you're right, I saw a lot of things happen to people I care about, we all did. But for God's sake, stop feeling bad for yourself about shit I have no interest in. I'm not going to feel bad because your boyfriend is dead. I've got my own problems. Now get out." Claudia yanked the door open and practically pushed Myka out the door and slamming it in her face.

Myka stood like a deer caught in headlights for almost a full minute before she felt tears sting her eyes. Did Claudia really just say that to her? _Claudia?_ The girl who has always been such a calm and collected young woman, did she just use one of the most painful things in Myka's life and hurt her with, just for the sake of hurting someone?

Myka turned from the door quickly and headed to her room. Tears were streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She didn't want to check them either. Myka slipped into her room and closed the door, pressing her forehead against the clammy wood. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and her tears hadn't even thought of starting to lessen.

"Myka." Spinning around at the familiar voice, Myka was confronted by an empty room. She didn't just hear that voice. She didn't just hear the lilt when the _"a"_ was pronounced. For the first time in a long while, Myka felt her heart race not because of sadness and regret, but of fear. Fear of something like this,_ this,_ wasn't something that could be caused by an artifact or could be cured by medication and therapy. For the first time in a long time, Myka was afraid that she was losing her mind.

_***13*13*13*13***_

When Myka came back down the stairs, she had her bag with her and a thick and warm looking jacket. She was holding a folder that, _obviously_, contained the papers on their current assignment, passport, ticket, and any and all information she seemed to might have pulled out of her ass on restoration artifacts.

Artie was hovering near the stairs, looking almost as if he was having a fight with himself on going up to say goodbye to Claudia or to stay here. Myka stopped just in front of him and looked over his shoulder at Pete. Leena was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, her arms folded around her. She looked sad and nervous at the same time.

"I'm ready, we can go." Myka said in a steady voice, a steady voice that betrayed itself if you knew her. She was using her resolved face and voice, which meant one thing. She was holding on by a thread.

"Should we-" Artie started speaking but Pete cut him off.

"No, leave her. She needs to be on her own for a little while now. It's been a rough few days for her, and badgering her is going to have disastrous consequences." Pete said simply as he took Myka's bag from her. He walked to Leena and wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear to keep him informed at all times. Leena wordlessly nodded as Pete let go of her and headed for the door. Before closing the door, Pete heard Artie ask Leena and Myka something he obviously wasn't supposed to hear, so he pretended he didn't.

"When did he grow so insightful?"

Pete closed the door behind him with a soft click. Blowing a sudden rush of air from his lungs, Pete felt himself grow cold inside and an overwhelming feeling of fear climbing up his spine.

"_Pete."_

There was no missing it. Anyone might have called it the wind playing tricks on the mind, but not this time. Pete turned his head toward the sound as a pale face flickered in and out of existence. Dropping Myka's bag with a loud thud, Pete took a step toward the flickering face.

"_What the-"_ The front door opening drew Pete's attention away for a fraction of a second and the face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Pete stood staring at the spot and turned to see Myka and Artie staring at him.

"What's wrong?" Myka asked, causing Pete to shake his head.

"_Nothing._ Let's go." Pete gruffly replied, picking up the bag and walking to the SUV. This is not good, Pete mused.

"Either this job is finally getting to me, or I'm losing my mind." Pete mumbled to himself.

_***13*13*13*13***_

The ride to the airport was quiet and uneventful. Myka was reading some file while Pete was driving. Artie was simply staring out of the window. Artie never does that, just stare out of the window. Pete wanted to turn the radio on, anything to get rid of the awkward silence currently seeping into his bones. When they finally reached the airport a few hours later, Pete was just about fed up, but bit his tongue. Lashing out at them now would just be mean and hurtful. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

Checking in and waving temporary goodbye to their luggage, Artie wandered off saying he'll be back later. Pete snagged the file from between Myka's fingers and read a few lines before his eyebrows joined his hairline.

"Astral projection? You're reading up on ghosts? I thought we already established that they don't exist." Pete said as Myka snagged the file back while giving him a poisonous glare.

"I'm just reading. You should try it some time." Myka snapped.

"Oh, kitty's got claws." Pete teased. He could almost feel Myka's anger starting to boil.

"Cut it out Pete. You're not a child anymore." Pete clenched his jaw as tightly as he could and stood closer to Myka, only a breath between them.

"You know what; you're being a proper bitch right now. I've been trying to make you feel better all day now, and I'm up to about here with your biting remarks the entire time. You want me to cut it out, grow up? _You got it_. But just so you know, don't expect me to be the same guy that just welcomed you back when you ditched us. And when you pull this conversation apart the moment I leave, keep in mind that_ you_ started this. You've got no one else to blame for this but _yourself_." Pete spat and turned on his heel and stormed off in the opposite direction that Artie went, leaving Myka standing in the middle of the airport.

_***13*13*13*13***_

Myka sighed and adjusted herself in her seat again. Their flight got delayed somewhere along the way, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Artie had wandered back and rubbed her arm when she told him that she had a fight with Pete. He was useless at comfort to say the least. Her quiet sniffles had died down as soon as Pete came back about an hour after he had stormed off. He was sitting across from her fiddling with his iPod. He hasn't looked at her at all.

This was going to be one of the longest flights Myka had ever been forced to sit through. Pete was sitting right next to her, and he was refusing to speak to her. Perhaps she could switch with Artie? _Anything_ to just remove herself from this situation. She might look brave, but when it came to _Pete Lattimer_, she was a chicken. Luckily she overheard Pete asking Artie if he could have the window seat. Artie looked at him with a slight frown but nodded. He knew something was up.

Boarding hadn't taken as long as Myka would have thought, as long as it always felt anyway. She kept staring at the back of Pete's head and frowned. Maybe he's right? She didn't have to snap at him, and in the car ride he had repeatedly told her corny jokes to lighten the mood, but the problem seemed to be that Myka didn't want to laugh. She wanted to pull herself into a little ball and cry. She wanted Pete to tell her it would all be okay and that the pain wouldn't last as long as she could swear it would. She wanted him to comfort her like he did when they were trapped in that prison during the hurricane.

He had told her what she needed to hear, almost like he could feel what she was clinging to. But why wouldn't he do that now? Surely he could feel how upset she was? As soon as the question formed in her mind, Myka let out a soft gasp and stopped dead and slapped her palm against her forehead. She's been such a selfish bitch. She's only been thinking about herself, _her own pain._ She's never considered that Pete hurt also, that maybe Pete needed the same reassurance that she needed, that she craved.

Maybe what Claudia said had merit. She had been going crazy inside her head and took it out on Pete. She used him as a punching bag when her emotions got too much to handle. Myka quickly started walking again, catching up to Artie and Pete. Tentatively, Myka slid her hand into Pete's, but he jerked away like she had pushed a hot poker between his fingers. The sight of Pete physically jerking away from her hurt more than she ever thought possible.

She definitely screwed this up. Pete's right, _she's to blame_ here. She's been an idiot. Normally Pete forgives easily, but the way she had clearly disregarded his feelings, his humanity, must have hurt so much that he could have decided that he's done with this friendship of theirs. That he's done with her. There's a thought Myka couldn't bear to face. _Life without Pete_, no. No. No. She's not going to think about it, because neither of them could cope without the other. Right? _Right?_

Fuck, she really hates Helena right now. Why would she open her eyes to something like that and just dump her within the awkwardness of such a situation. He doesn't want her, simple. But if he didn't want her, why did he almost kiss her in their first year as Warehouse agents, when they had had _another_ fight in the Warehouse and Artie dumped goo all over them. She had slipped and pulled him down with her. They had laughed like teenagers, sliding around in the goo. Right there on the Warehouse floor. It had all been innocent fun until Pete fell slightly over her, his nose and mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips. He had dipped lower and brushed their noses together and pulled away quickly. He marched away like a naughty child having been scolded.

They never spoke of it, and that was a good thing until H.G. asked her how long she was planning on keeping her attraction to Pete a secret. She had made Myka notice things that she and Pete did that seemed much more than friendly. _So much more_. And Myka relished in those instances. She would never have told H.G. but she liked the way she and Pete were with each other. But it's not like that anymore. H.G. lied to her, tried to force her to forgive her by sacrificing herself for them.

Fuck. She really hated Helena right now.

"God, what's happening to us? Is this what we've been reduced to?" Myka asked herself quietly. Stupid asking this question, really. She already knew the answer.

_***13*13*13*13***_

_**A/N:**_ Phew, that was a lot. So, I'm updating a little earlier than I intended. Sorry about my late reply to all your lovely reviews, but I had all these nice, personal reviews typed out and then my PC decides to go all 'MUWAHAHAHA' and restarted itself without at least giving me an auto recovery of my document. Sigh. Anyway, so as you've read, this covers the first part of chapter one. The week in Russia is coming up next, and just between me and you, its hectic!

Now, I'm sure you have many questions and comments, so please drop me a review before you leave! You guys are muchly awesome! :D

Remember that reviews give me the happy dance! :P


	4. Those narcissistic ones are cannibals

_This chapter covers the entire week in Russia. I don't own Warehouse 13 or its characters; neither do I own the theory of attachment. I do own Istvan though. I think he's funny. The song I listened to while writing this is __'I Am Only One' by We Are The Fallen__. Do yourself a favor and listen to it while reading. Pure brilliance!_

_**Those narcissistic ones are cannibals.**_

With a flight that would have normally taken a really long time, this specific one was taking for-bloody-ever. Myka kept trying to get Pete to talk to her. Pete (being Pete) refused to even look at her. Scooting lower in his seat, Pete contemplated the little, rather large, scene they had caused. He didn't mean to go off on her. Myka is just so used to pushing his buttons that the one time he did react; his top blew off and it still seemed to be MIA.

But the little altercation with Myka isn't what's keeping him awake. She had put her hand in his. She wanted to hold his hand. _She wanted to hold his hand?_ What? Pete snorted, earning him a side-ways look from both Artie and Myka (speak of the devil and his cannibals shall engage you in a stare down).

"Just remembering a joke Claudia told me." Pete mumbled. Artie nodded and went back to the file he was reading for the third time. Pete felt Myka's gaze linger a little longer than was socially acceptable. Balling his fists and literally biting his tongue from asking her what the problem was, Pete opened the window cover and stared out into the night.

_Did she want to hold his hand?_ Obviously not, come on, it's _Myka_. She scoffs at any sort of physical interaction. For Myka to reach out and touch someone, would mean that she wanted to grab the persons attention or she was really, really upset. Nothing much upset them these days, well, except for the Warehouse going boom.

The three of them had a sort of blood pact about the day the Warehouse was blown up. No one talked about it. _No one_. They didn't talk about the look of peace on H.G.'s face, the heat of the explosion and the flames they could feel on their faces. They didn't talk about how all three of them simply looked dazed and stumbled around the Warehouse remains, or the fact that each of them could feel physical pain at the loss of the Warehouse. Almost as if the artifacts had protested so violently, an impression of their pain could be felt.

It's good that they don't talk about it. _Isn't it?_ Pete felt himself frowning at this thought. He's always been a talker. If anything bothered him, he talked about it. He expressed his anger, his love, his concern, _everything_ by talking about it. Not Myka, she'd get all quiet and stuff. Artie is an island, so no use even thinking about him. But Myka, she's never reacted in this manner before. If they fought, they (Pete) talked about it and got over it. Not this time though. Pete cleared his throat, steeling himself. If they could do it, so could he. Getting over it is easy. He'll just be pulling a Myka.

"Artie, you've been reading that file for a while now. Wanna fill us in?" Artie looked almost shocked that Pete spoke first, as did Myka. Yes children, Pete Lattimer could be an instigator, _if_ he wanted to be.

"Ah, yes. Well, this is the information my contact sent over. None of it makes any sense at all." Artie ran a hand over his face and sighed.

"Run that by me again? How does it not make sense?" Pete asked in a hushed tone.

"Well, you both know the saying 'Rome wasn't built in a day'? Turns out it was."

"What? Artie, you've officially lost me." Pete looked frustrated, but he wasn't the only one who didn't follow. Myka had a confused look on her face as well.

"Rome was built in one day. One day exactly, give or take a few hours. The only record about this is an inscription found on the records of the city. The author is unknown, most likely a person who was killed or died of diseases. They weren't known to have lived very long. Did you know-" Myka put her hand on Artie's arm at the same time Pete placed his hand over Artie's mouth. Artie nodded slowly, clearly noting how blatantly he had veered off course. They both released him the minute he seemed to have composed himself.

"Yes, well, sorry. The inscription said that life was created by life. I mean, I know the obvious meaning of life creates life; it's a mother giving life to her child. The city having been one of the spectacular cities of the time and it happened to be called the mother city, etcetera, etcetera. I can hardly see a woman giving birth to a city, literally." Artie seemed annoyed that he couldn't decipher the meaning of the inscription.

"Why can't people just say something directly? Just tell me, the chips you want are behind you. Why say that which you seek can be found where you do not look." Artie grinned at Pete's evident frustration. Seeing Artie smile lifted the mood slightly. Artie smiling is a rarity in itself which had the purpose of making the three of them feeling more comfortable with each other.

"They did have a way with riddles, I'll give them that." Myka smiled at Artie. "Why don't you try and get some rest? We'll go over it again once you've slept more than forty-five minutes." Myka sounded like she was talking to a small child, which essentially, Artie kind of is. One had to literally pry the toys from his hands and send him to bed. Artie opened his mouth to protest but Pete beat him to it.

"Myka's right Artie. You're no use to us dead." Artie frowned and scoffed loud enough for both Pete and Myka to hear.

"_Fine._ Move, you two fix this friction between you before you kill me with stares." Artie ordered, pulling on Pete's arm, ready to move into the window seat. Pete nodded dumbly and took Artie's seat. Things are clearly obvious if Artie notices. _Oh crap._

For a few minutes they were engulfed by silence. A silence neither of them seemed to want to break; only when Artie made a gruff "hmff" sound did Myka speak.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I've been a bit self-centered lately and I didn't mean to come across as the bitch I seem to have become." She didn't look at Pete as she spoke, instead focusing on her hands.

"I guess its fine." Pete replied.

"You guess its fine?" Myka's voice went up an octave, only to check her anger before she awakened the entire plane. "What the hell Pete?"

"Look, I get it okay. You've been all crazy-mourning Myka. You get to be a little off sometimes, and I guess I just overreacted." Pete felt his skin prickle at the obvious lie. He didn't overreact. She'd been a complete crazy woman. He was granted a crazy moment too. _He lost people too._

"Pete-" Myka began but Pete cut her off.

"Myka, drop it. We sorted it out; can we get to thinking now?" Pete said with more venom than he realized. Myka just nodded and bit her lip. Pete snagged the file from her lap and opened it to start reading it with fresh eyes.

"It's not very thorough." Pete remarked.

"Yeah, I know. Artie said it was all his contact had on it."

"But, the entire thing is two pages. What are we supposed to do with two pages?" Pete furrowed his brows.

"That's where the thinking comes in." Myka teased lightly and was earned with a small grin from Pete.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Myka nodded and took the file back.

"Okay. Let's start from the beginning." She cleared her throat softly, a nervous yet endearing habit Pete noticed she had. She only cleared her throat when she was very nervous about not knowing enough about the artifact they were hunting. She hates being unprepared. Pete figured that's why she was a little shocked when he acted nonchalant about her bitch-fit. She had an entire speech planned out, Pete mused. She wanted to have control of how the apology went, which must be why her mind is slowly sneaking away from her. She couldn't control everything anymore. Pete felt the proverbial light bulb going on at his thoughts.

"You know how you have this freaky _need_ to control everything?" Pete turned in his seat to look at Myka, who sat staring at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, we noticed it. Anyway, maybe that's why there isn't a whole lot of information on this thing. They couldn't control it. Now, think back to when Rome was built, what did those guys do when they couldn't control something?"

"They destroyed it." Myka said. "But if they destroyed it, why are we looking for it? It's not like we can use it."

"I know, but think about it, how is an artifact created?" Pete asked.

"Well, paranormal theory of attachment states that a spirit may become attracted in some way to a living human or inanimate object. We already know that the circumstances of a person's death can create an artifact, like the artifact from the Titanic." Myka hammered on despite the look on Pete's face.

"Did you eat a dictionary or something?" Myka stopped talking and Pete could _feel_ her blushing bright red.

"Good memory." She mumbled.

"Yeah, don't I know it…" Pete teased. "I guess we have our answer. A spirit may become attracted to a living or inanimate object. What if a spirit is used to make this restoration artifact? I mean it makes sense. A spirit wants to be restored to life. Maybe that's what is being referred to. Artifacts create another artifact, one that restores or creates life." Pete slumped back into his chair.

"Thinking hurts my head." Pete mumbled. "Why are you _staring_ at me?" Pete turned his head to look at Myka.

"You've become highly insightful. And I think you're right. With this job of ours anything is possible." Myka sighed and leaned back into her chair too.

There was a comfortable silence that settled over them.

"Claudia was right." Myka whispered.

"What?" Pete asked; keeping his eyes closed.

"I have to get over it." Pete turned his head toward Myka, confusion apparent over his features.

"I've been clinging to Sam's death for so long that I've been blinded by my grief. I've been grieving for Sam for so long that there's no space in my heart to grieve for Steve or Mrs. Frederic or even H.G. _I need to move on_." She whispered again. Pete was quiet for a while.

"She doesn't always mean what she says." Pete said quietly. He couldn't tell Myka what she so obviously wanted to hear. He couldn't tell her that Claudia said those things to hurt her, _he knew she did_, but she had a point.

"What are we doing Pete?" Myka's voice had an edge to it that Pete felt himself disapproving of.

"What do you mean?"

"The Warehouse is gone. What are we doing on a plane on its way to Moscow? What are we trying to achieve?" Myka's voice drifted off.

"I don't know." Pete replied truthfully. Myka's sniffles alerted him to the fact that she started crying. Reaching out to grasp her hand, Pete repeated his last words, more to himself than to her. "I don't know."

_***13*13*13*13***_

Someone was shaking him. Lord, he hates being shook. Batting at the offending hand, Pete tried to drift off to sleep again but to no avail. The hand came back. Gritting his teeth to keep his annoyance at being awaken in this manner in check, Pete cracked open his right eye. Myka was asleep on his shoulder, his hand still in hers. Opening his other eye, he saw Artie's hand go in for the kill. Pete held up his left hand in warning.

"Artie, I know your social skills are still developing, but shake me again and I'm gonna stick your hand up your nose." Myka chuckled from his shoulder.

"Listen to him Artie, I've seen it happen." Artie pulled a face and stared at them for a minute, maybe two, Pete wasn't sure. He only knew that it felt like an eternity.

"Okay, we're up." Pete mumbled and Myka groaned as they both sat up straight.

"Tell me, any thoughts?" Artie looked like a kid in a sweet shop. Myka opened her mouth to tell Artie about their theory, but was silenced by the captain telling them they were landing in about fifteen minutes. Artie however wouldn't be swayed by fifteen minutes.

"Your contact is going to help us, right? Don't you think its better that we wait till we meet him? Then we don't have to tell the story over again. Plus," Myka motioned to the people around them "the walls have ears." Artie wanted to object, Pete could see it in his eyes, but zipped his lips when the airhostess told them they have to buckle their seatbelts.

"I'm hungry." Pete moaned. "How long did we sleep for anyway and why didn't anyone wake us up for breakfast?" Myka shook her head but smiled.

"Nine hours and roughly forty minutes." Artie said. He looked better, the bags under his eyes were lighter, but he still seemed to have an air of exhaustion about him.

"Awesome." Pete yawned and stretched his entire body, earning a crack from his back and knees.

Once the plane landed it took another twenty minutes to be herded off of the plane like sheep. Pete felt his grumpiness return at the lack of food and even almost resorted to digging through Myka's carry-on in search of something to appease his stomach. That only earned him a slap on the hand and an offended look from Myka and a frown from Artie.

"Food, I need food!" Pete complained for the fifth time at the baggage carousel. Artie gave him annoyed look again, but didn't say anything. The minute their bags came their way, Pete snagged all three and loaded them onto a trolley. Without even needing to ask for directions, Pete found a food court almost immediately.

"If bloodhounds ever go extinct, they need to clone Pete." Myka whispered in Artie's ear, loud enough for Pete to hear. He only gave her a dirty look and continued to order some strange looking meat dish.

"Artie, do you want some tea?" Myka asked and Artie responded exuberantly. The moment Pete received his food; he proceeded to resemble a vacuum cleaner, almost inhaling the food at an alarming pace.

"You shouldn't eat so fast, American." A man with a thick Russian accent said from behind Pete. Artie peered past Pete at the man and a slow smile crept onto his face.

"Istvan." Artie addressed the man and was rewarded with a nod. The man was quite tall, almost an entire head taller than Pete. His shoulders looked slim even through the thick coat he had on. His blonde hair was graying slightly and his bright blue eyes looked like they saw everything about a person they needed to know.

"Your friend here is very green Arthur. Even blind man can spot it." Istvan said as Pete shot him a dirty look.

"I am Istvan and you are Peter Lattimer." Istvan said matter-of-factly and extended his hand to Pete. Pete regarded him with an obvious air of distrust and suspicion.

As always, Myka seemed to have impeccable timing and strolled over with a cardboard cup holder containing coffee. She stopped a few yards from the three men and raised a manicured brow. She shuffled a little closer and pulled on her 'I don't trust you' face.

"Myka Bering, I am Istvan." Istvan extended his hand to Myka as well, but Myka just stared at him, narrowing her eyes.

"He doesn't bite children." Artie said sarcastically.

"Not to worry Arthur. They are cautious. As we all should be with these troubled times we face." Istvan said calmly and turned on his heel. Artie snagged a cup from Myka and walked after Istvan. Myka and Pete stared at each other for a heartbeat before following at a safe pace.

"What the hell?" Pete said softly to Myka, his eyes trained on Istvan's back.

They made their way out of the airport and boarded one of the shuttles to the train station. Before either Pete or Myka could say anything, Istvan spoke.

"It is safer this way. Many people mean they cannot follow easily." Istvan motioned to the man sitting at the back of the shuttle.

"How do you know he's following us?" Myka asked tentatively.

"He was waiting at airport. No luggage, no companion. Walked after us. He must be quite new at his job." Istvan chuckled and drew nearer to Myka.

"Do not think that there are not people who wish to harm you. The Warehouse may be destroyed, but your enemies are not." Myka couldn't do anything but nod. Pete curled his fingers around Myka's and squeezed her hand. Pete saw Istvan notice his actions, yet he didn't say anything. His face was a cool and collected mask of indifference.

"We go now." Istvan announced half a second before the doors opened. A car pulled up next to the newly opened doors and all four of them shuffled into the back seat before their feet even touched the ground; luggage haphazardly shoved onto their laps. The car sped away as Pete looked out of the back window, seeing the man who was in the back of the shuttle pushing people out of his way to the door.

"Damn." Pete said under his breath. This guy is much better than Artie gave him credit for. On second thought, Artie didn't give him any credit. He didn't even give them a name.

"Okay, Mission Impossible tricks aside. Wanna tell us who you are?" Pete said as Istvan climbed over their legs and luggage into the front seat.

"I am Istvan. I tell you that already."

"Yeah, call me crazy. I don't believe you." Pete narrowed his eyes at the back of Istvan's head.

"Pete." Artie said with a newfound authoritarian tone of voice, telling Pete to drop the subject. The silence that followed became almost unbearable. They drove for nearly an hour, and hour of driving, eerie silence and swearing in his head made it hard to not think about their predicament. It was well after dark when they stopped in front of a small brick building.

Istvan herded them into the building as the driver took off. The wind was icy, stinging like little pricks by a needle. Istvan motioned for Pete to follow Myka and Artie into the house, as he pulled their luggage behind him.

The inside of the building looked decidedly better than the outside, Pete decided by default. The living room was small, but quaint. The fireplace was quietly being stacked by Artie, as Myka took her gloves off, stuffing them into her jacket pocket, which she draped over a hanger and placed into the coat closet. The room was covered by dark wood and red paneling and a lush grey carpet. There was a long couch in front of the fireplace, with two single chairs against the back of the couch. A small glass and wood table stood in front of the two chairs.

Istvan pulled their luggage in behind him and shut the door to the biting wind. Pete pulled his gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket, mimicking Myka's actions of minutes earlier. Artie managed to get the fire lit and shrugged off his own jacket and scarf. Pete felt the chilly room heat up slightly and felt himself grow suddenly very appreciative of Artie's suggestion to pack warmly. They _definitely_ left Kansas.

"I will not suggest waiting for tomorrow. Where do we begin?" Istvan said as he picked one of the single chairs up, carrying it over the couch; placing it next to the fireplace and sitting down.

Pete, Myka and Artie took the couch by default so that they were facing the fireplace and Istvan directly.

"We have a theory as to what the artifact may be." Myka said. Istvan folded his fingers over his stomach and leaned back in the chair, resting his head against the wall. Pete figured Istvan's silence was Myka's cue to continue.

"On the plane, Pete and I talked this out a little and I think we have a rough idea of what we might be dealing with. A spirit may become attracted to a living or inanimate object, right? So what if a spirit is used to make this restoration artifact? As Pete pointed out, a spirit wants to be restored to life. Could that be what is being referred to? Artifacts that are creating another artifact; an artifact that restores or creates life?"

Istvan was quiet for a moment, drumming his fingers slowly on his stomach.

"That can be one way of looking at this. But forget everything you learn on artifacts." Istvan said as he jumped up. "This artifact is very dangerous. Many have died searching for it and many more will die if it fall in wrong hands." Pete couldn't help but stare at Istvan.

"This artifact chooses who it wants." Almost immediately sensing the confusion around the room, Istvan continued. "It will not come to any man. It is created through big tragedy."

"Like the destruction of the Warehouse?" Myka asked.

"Yes, yes, like that. We do not know how it is made, or how it come. That is what is dangerous. There is many people who will create big tragedy to get artifact." Istvan sat back down and frowned.

"This doesn't make any sense at all." Pete mumbled. "You're saying we need to go out and look for someone who is worthy of summoning this artifact, but you don't know where or how? Have you noticed how big this country is? This person can be anywhere. Don't you think it would just be safer to not summon this thing?" Pete got up from the couch and began pacing in front of the fireplace.

"You're saying that many people have died in search of this thing and many more will die if it falls into the wrong hands, how do we know that the person who is worthy _isn't_ the wrong hands? How do we know that _we_ aren't the wrong hands?" Pete felt himself getting angry at not knowing anything about what he's supposed to do.

Istvan just stared at Pete as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Pete…" Myka said softly, standing slowly while tugging on his hand. Pete turned and felt all the color drain from his face. The faint blue light was hovering in the middle of the room. Artie had backed away with inhuman speed and Pete decided to follow, pushing Myka behind him and backing away slowly. There was no sound from any of them; almost like they were afraid to breathe lest it be too loud. There seemed to be a faint humming emanating from the, well whatever that thing is.

The light was changing color, shifting from light blue to grey. And it was moving, almost like water in space. It shifted closer to Pete and Myka, causing Pete to push Myka back even more. Shifting slowly into a mist-like state, a face looked like it was trying to push through the mist.

"Help me…" A voice that sounded like it was being pulled across sandpaper emerged out of nowhere. The face seemed to be in agony. The words came from a mouth that was open in a silent scream. Grey shifted back to light blue and back as it moved closer still to Pete and Myka.

"Pete…" Myka clawed at Pete's arms and hid her face in his back, a clear signal of her distress.

The lights flickered and it was gone.

Nothing was said for a few moments, not until Artie clutched at his chest and sagged against the wall, sliding all the way down onto the carpet. Pete rushed over to him, pulling Myka along with him.

"What was that?" Artie asked as he gasped for breath.

"An apparition." Istvan calmly replied. "I will make tea." He announced and left the room.

"His narcissistic manner is starting to annoy me." Pete grumbled under his breath as he helped Myka lift Artie and settle him onto the couch. Pete sagged down next to Artie as Myka held Artie's hands and told him to calm his breathing.

"What was that?" Artie asked again, bewilderment setting in fully. His eyes were wide and sweat started to form at his temples. Pete felt himself taking note of the fact that Istvan seemed much too calm, and Artie, _well_, he was confused past the point of forming words.

"Artie, calm down. You're going to give yourself a heart attack." Myka said, trying to sooth Artie.

Istvan came back into the living room with a tray containing four cups of tea and a bottle of vodka. Giving each a cup, Istvan opened the bottle and dunked a gracious helping into Artie's tea.

"Drink." He ordered, adding some to two of the other cups as well. Artie gulped the entire cup down in three swallows. Myka rubbed his knees and smiled when he pulled a face.

"Better?" She asked and grinned when Artie pulled an even worse face. Pete drank his tea quietly and spilled some on his shirt when Myka tugged the cup away from him.

"I did not give him any." Istvan said; his back turned to her. Pete gave Myka his best stink-eye and sipped some more of his tea, what was left of it anyway.

"Anyone care to explain what the hell just happened?" Pete asked, surprising himself with his calm tone.

"Istvan called it an apparition. Spirit image of a person that is able to materialize despite the lack of a physical body. May appear solid, mist-like, shadow-like or opaque." Myka said.

"Yes you are right." Istvan replied. "I think it wants you two." Istvan turned back to them and pointed at Pete and Myka.

"But why?" Myka asked in a small voice. "It didn't do anything like that last time I saw it."

"You have seen it before?" Istvan sounded almost aggravated that Myka only spoke of it now. Strangely Pete felt himself feeling the same way.

"Yes. In my room before we came here." Istvan nodded and gave Pete a pointed look.

"Yeah, I saw it too. Just before we left for the airport."

Istvan nodded again and took a large swig of his tea, tea Pete was almost sure was about 20% tea and 80% vodka.

"It is the first time it spoke?" Istvan asked, but got an immediate contradicting answer.

"Yes."

"No."

"No?" He raised a brow and looked at Pete, as did Myka and a nearly catatonic Artie.

"It said my name when I saw it. It moved toward me a little. And I saw a face, the same face that I saw this time." Pete managed to say under the pressure of the three sets of eyes staring down at him. He felt like he was being intervened on again. He wasn't even drinking _damn it!_

"Interesting." Istvan concluded, just before smacking his hands together. "We must sleep. Come."

That was the last they spoke of it for the night. Istvan showed them each their rooms as soon as they were sure Artie was not going to die in his sleep. Myka said goodnight and went to bed quietly. Istvan said his own goodnights and disappeared back down the stairs. Pete wasn't sure how he would be able to sleep.

This whole thing was messed up. They had no idea what they were dealing with and now an apparition was _stalking_ them. _Joy to the bloody world_. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Pete quickly texted Leena and Claudia that they had landed and were heading to bed. Using the Farnsworth might have been easier, except it didn't work properly. Pete figured it must be due to the fact that the Warehouse went up in shards.

Scratching the back of his neck, Pete took his boots off and sat on the bed. The room was a dark brown color and had a similar color rug. The walls were bare except for a medium sized copy of a painting above the bed. What is up with Artie's reaction? And Istvan's also for that matter… Pete couldn't shake the feeling that in their own way, both men seemed shocked to see that thing again. But why? What weren't they telling them?

Lying back, Pete sighed and whispered Myka's words to the walls.

"What are we doing?"

_***13*13*13*13***_

Myka opened her eyes warily to the faint traces of sunlight filtering through the slight gap between the curtains. She hadn't slept much during the night. Seeing that _thing_ again, hearing its grating voice and seeing Artie in such a state for the first time shook her more than she was willing to admit.

Sighing, Myka pushed the covers back and got out of bed. Pulling open her suitcase for a set of fresh clothes, Myka set off in search of the bathroom. The house was quiet. The doors to Artie and Pete's rooms were both closed and having no idea where Istvan slept, she guessed he might be asleep too.

Closing the door behind her quietly, Myka set her clothes on the toilet lid and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were back and her face was slightly paler than she had gotten used to over the past few days. She didn't have words to express how she felt right now. She was happy that she and Pete were on speaking terms again, but scared shitless at the fact that she didn't know what she saw in the living room. Gritting her teeth, Myka ignored the slight sting of tears forming in her eyes. Instead of crying, she opened the shower taps and stripped her clothing off.

She caught a glimpse of her neck in the mirror and pulled her head back slightly to stare at the faint discoloration on her neck. The bruise was fading already, but the memories and fear didn't disappear along with it. Myka hadn't felt fear like that since she heard the shots that ended Sam's life, or the fear she felt when Pete almost died with that thing on his back, back in their first year at the Warehouse. But they had gotten over that together, hadn't they? How can she get over the fact that she is carrying proof of her near death around on her neck?

H.G. saved her life that day. Having her neck shackled like that had created not only a sting, but a fear so deep it hurt to even think about it. She saw the manner in which she was going to die. She saw the fear in Pete's eyes as she was forced into the chair. Touching the bruise softly, Myka smiled. H.G. saved all their lives that day. Wasn't thankfulness more important than the overwhelming fear and grief she wanted to carry around with her?

Shaking her head, Myka got into the scorching hot shower, her skin growing pink almost immediately. She can't think about this now, Myka scolded herself. She needed to focus on what threatened them_ now_. She needed to set her mind onto finding out what they were up against.

Finishing her shower as quickly as she could, Myka dried herself and got dressed quickly, pulling her hair into a bun as she exited the bathroom and headed down the stairs to look for the kitchen. She didn't have to look very far seeing, er, smelling, as she only had to follow her nose, she found the kitchen and Istvan. For some or other odd reason, he was making pancakes.

"Good morning." Myka said as she sat on the chair in the corner next to the small table she guessed was the dining room.

"Good morning." Istvan replied with a bright smile. "How did you sleep?"

"The little I slept was good, thank you. Uhm, I don't want to be a pain in the butt, but why is our Russian host making pancakes?" Istvan chuckled at Myka's question.

"I have spent some time in America. You like the pancakes. We have much work to do today." Istvan replied. "Your friend is outside. You should speak with him." Istvan indicated to the window. Myka nodded and stood, grabbing her coat on her way out of the house.

"Okay, yeah, I'll tell them. Thanks Leena." Myka only managed to hear the last bit of the conversation Pete was having.

"How are they?" Myka asked, managing to spook Pete.

"Shit Myks, don't sneak up on me like that. They're fine. Claudia's barricaded herself in her room." Pete scowled and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Oh… You're up early. It's not even seven yet." Myka shuffled her feet, feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep. No use staring at the ceiling. Did you see he's making pancakes? Dude's weird." Myka couldn't help but laugh at the look on Pete's face as he spoke. Grinning at each other, Pete spoke softly.

"Are you okay? Last night looked like it shook you." Myka nodded and looked down at her feet again.

"I… I don't know what's going on. I don't know what to expect. I mean, we're here looking for some artifact, and now there's this thing appearing around you and me, which clearly means that it has something to do with you and me specifically, but it's confusing because I don't know if this is related to the artifact or not, my brain feels like it's going to burst a-" Myka's rambling stopped abruptly when Pete puts a finger on her lips, effectively shutting her up.

"Breathe." He instructed and Myka gulped air into her lungs. "I don't know if it's related to what's going on here either, but that's what we're here to find out, right?" Pete asked.

Myka only nodded at his words.

"I don't trust him." Pete said softly, inclining his head toward the house.

"His narcissism is setting even my teeth on edge. My dad used to say you should watch out for those narcissistic ones because they're cannibals." Myka cocked her head to the right in confusion.

"They are selfish Myks, concerned only about what happens to them. If it comes down to it, they will go cannibalistic on the people near them if it means they have something to gain from the situation." Pete explained and Myka felt herself understanding his way of thinking.

"Let's go inside. It's freezing and I'm hungry." Pete said finally and Myka laughed again.

"You're _always_ hungry." She retorted as they headed inside.

_***13*13*13*13***_

The next few days was dedicated to doing research, eating, showering and sleeping in snatches. The things they managed to find was useless to them to say the least. Thursday night they had pushed the furniture against one of the walls, Myka's laptop was in front of her with soft music playing from the small speaker, while Artie and Istvan played a game of cards with Pete reading some information he had come across earlier in the day. Myka found herself typing up what they knew so far, and to be honest, it was a scarily small amount of information.

Istvan had declared that they needed a break. They were getting nowhere and exhausting themselves was no use. Their brains needed to be alert when the apparition came knocking again as well as when they were reading through the useless spurts of information the internet gave them.

Pete sat up suddenly, drawing all the attention in the room onto him.

"Listen to this. A scientist back in the fifties wrote a report that he saw a ball of light blue energy hovering in the middle of his lab. It changed color along with the emergence of a face he felt he knew, but didn't. He was doing research on something related to energy weapons and he thought that he could tap into this entity and use it as a power source. The reason for his insane idea is the fact that whatever this thing came near became charged with electricity." Pete looked up at the faces staring at him.

"Is there anything in there on how he drew it out, made it appear?" Artie asked.

"Nothing I've read so far, but he rambled on about how they could conduct research every four days at the same time every time. This doesn't make sense at all." Pete slumped back against the wall.

"Actually it does." Artie said and furrowed his brow. "If this scientist was doing research on energy weapons, he would look for a way to harness energy freely, almost like energy on tap. Ingenious idea, but it worries me. Every four days, at the same time, every time. I think it means that whatever this thing is that we saw on Monday is able to use energy that it builds up over four days, which means that it's trying to get through some sort of barrier between us and it and it uses energy to do so."

Myka rubbed at her temples and looked at Artie. "So what you're saying is that whatever this thing is can electrocute us all if we make it angry?"

"Essentially, _yes_." Artie concluded and Istvan nodded.

"Somehow this feels like we're even more screwed than when we came to this country." Pete grumbled sourly.

"And it means that we need to figure out what to do before 8:45pm tomorrow night." Artie said to the room.

Oh yes, Myka thought. They're definitely more screwed than when they came to Russia.

"What the hell are we doing?" Myka asked the room.

Istvan stood and stretched slowly. "I think, Myka that we do not need to ask questions we do not have answer to, and work to find answer instead."

Cryptic Russian man saying they need to figure out what the hell they're going to do before they all die is not the kind of thing a girl wants to hear at all. Glancing over at Pete, Myka noticed that he looked deep in thought.

"Pete?" Pete looked up and stared at her.

"I have a bad feeling about the plan Artie is about to suggest." Myka stared at him for a moment before turning to look at Artie, who had a sheepish look on his face.

"What? I was only going to suggest coming into contact with it. It… It's you two it wants; it won't hurt you, right?" Artie asked, nervousness seeping into his tone.

"Yeah, except when one of this scientist's colleagues touched it, it turned him into pixie dust, and the scientist ended up in a mental institution not long after he got this report out." Pete passed the file on to Artie.

"That's not good."

Way to state the obvious Artie. No, that is not good at all. For the hundredth time, Myka felt herself asking the same question.

"What are we doing?"

_***13*13*13*13***_

_**A/N:**_ Hey guys, sorry for the delay in updating. I've been on a proper loafing week, seeing as it's my first week of vacation I've had in the last five months. Uni has been killing me. I hope you like the chapter, it's a little longer, which is hopefully accepted as an apology. I won't be updating on Monday, seeing as it's my birthday, and I start work on Tuesday.

The thing with Artie acting all weird with the apparition thingy will all be explained in due time.

Oh yeah, _Aubrey_ dear, you are awesome!

Leave me some birthday love in the form of a review! Thanks for reading :D Reviews give me the happy dance


	5. Holding on to Heaven

_**Holding on to Heaven**_

Myka stared at the file on her lap. Everyone had gone to bed about an hour earlier, per Istvan's suggestion. She flipped the pages again, scanning the information on the page she already knew by heart. Artie was mumbling something to himself when he headed up the stairs, but no matter how hard she strained to hear him, Myka's brain just wouldn't focus.

Pete said it had spoken to him before. Why didn't it speak to her when she saw it? Myka slumped against the headboard and stared at the wall. The pale wall she had been staring holes into for most of the night. She checked her watch again. 4:05 am. Tossing the file onto the floor, Myka slid down the bed till her head hit the pillow. This is hopeless. Sleep was being an elusive little sucker. Not like she could bring herself to sleep anyway…

_***13*13*13*13***_

"Has it been found?"

"Yes sir." A young man replied.

"Where?"

"Russia." The man replied again. His eyes were straining in the darkness. He could only barely make out the figure standing by the window, staring out at the scenery.

"Good." The figure said quietly. "Dismissed." The man nodded and turned on his heel, walking briskly from the office. He heard her voice, but didn't see her, almost a second before he could close the door. He stood frozen in place, half sure that they didn't know he was still there.

"Do you think they have figured it out yet?" Her voice was like velvet, like soft flowing water slipping through one's fingers. He could almost see her young face and blood red lips.

"I don't know." The man replied. His voice was still hard, but seemed to have a compassionate edge to it when he spoke to this girl. A girl no one has seen during their operations at all.

"Jenkins lost them on the bus. He says that they jumped into a car as soon as the bus stopped. He wasn't able to follow them, but he did get the number plate. If we take the jet we can be there within 12 hours." The woman all but purred.

"Does he know where they are?"

"Yes."

The young man felt his eyes grow to the size of saucers. He was so interested in the conversation going on, on the other side of the door that he didn't even notice the bullet that entered the back of his head before it was too late.

_***13*13*13*13***_

Myka woke with a start, jerking her feet and flying up, plastering her hair over her face. There was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" She croaked out. Pete pushes open the door and sticks his head in.

"You decent?" He asks teasingly, causing Myka to smile slightly.

"I am." She flips her hair back and rubs her eyes. Checking her watch again shows that it is only 5:58 am. "You're up early." She mumbles as a yawn attacks her. Pete comes into the room and closes the door quietly behind him.

"Yeah, Istvan gets up at 6. _Exactly at six_. Didn't want him to hear me sneak in here." Myka snorts and grins at Pete.

"Why _Peter_, what are you planning on doing with me?" She asks, seductively trying to tease him. Pete grins and moves her legs away so he can sit down.

"Everything I've done in my dreams up to date." He teases right back and Myka feels her cheeks flame. Clearing her throat softly, Myka looks at Pete from beneath her lashes in an attempt to hide her blush. Pete just grins and continues speaking.

"I couldn't sleep, and I've been having this thought for most of the night…" Pete trails off, staring at the floor.

"What thought?" Myka asks, placing her hand on his arm to pull his thoughts back. Thoughts, _she was completely sure_, he'd want to hide from her.

"This thing we're looking for… its- its after me I think." Pete mumbles, still not looking at Myka.

"What do you mean?"

"It spoke to me, not to you. Said 'Help me', and if I didn't move toward you, it wouldn't have moved after me, right?" Pete finally brought his eyes to hers. She could see clear agony in them.

"Pete-" She began, but Pete cut her off.

"I'll take it into me. But I need you to run when I tell you to, okay?"

"No." Myka says forcefully. "No." Repeating it more to herself than to him.

"Myks-"

"NO!" Myka moves forward and plants her hands on Pete's cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "I'm not going to let you get a hero complex on me." She whispers. Pete pulls her hands from his face and kisses her knuckles.

"Myka please…" Pete stares into her eyes and Myka feels herself starting to cave.

"Please don't ask me to give you up." She whispers and kisses him. She left her lips on his for half a second before pulling away. She couldn't, _wouldn't_, open her eyes and see him walk out the room and possibly sacrifice himself for a cause he doesn't even believe in.

"I'm not going to let you die, when I know I can save you. Please Myka, just this once, don't fight me." Pete whispers against her lips and Myka feels herself nodding. Pete brushes his lips over hers once, twice, and then disappears out the door, leaving Myka with a soft yet incredibly loud click of the door closing behind him.

_***13*13*13*13***_

An hour later Myka managed to get out of bed. She gathered up some clothes and went about her morning ritual before heading down the stairs and into the kitchen where she could clearly smell freshly brewed coffee. She was the last person to enter the kitchen. Artie and Istvan were having an animated conversation and Pete was staring at the pancakes on his plate.

"Good morning Myka." Artie said with false brightness and Istvan nodded.

"Morning." She reached her hand out to take the mug Istvan was already pouring coffee in for her. "Thank you." She says politely. Again, Istvan only nodded.

"I think we have a plan." Artie says before Myka can even take a sip of her much needed coffee. Her eyes are glued to Pete. Artie continues without even noticing that she's not listening to him at all.

"Istvan and I have been talking, and I think we know what to do." Istvan nods animatedly and continues as Artie catches his breath.

"We tink you must draw it. It may have an attachment formed on bofe of you, and it wood be our best plan of attack." That seems to get Pete's attention.

"Attack? You want us to attack it?" Pete stands, nearly throwing the chair down and glowers at Artie and Istvan.

"Did you, or did you not read that file I gave you? It kills anything that touches it, and drives anyone close to it insane. Say we do manage to 'attack' it… I go poof and Myka goes crazy. Nice plan." Pete says sarcastically. Artie looks appalled.

"No, no, no! You're not going to get close enough for it to try and kill you. We found schematics in Istvan's study. The machine removes unwanted energy. The moment we destroy this thing that is haunting the two of you, the quicker we can get back to finding the artifact." Artie says quickly. Pete storms out of the room and mumbles something about _stupid warehouse shit_. Artie looks at Myka in a pleading way, asking her with his eyes to talk to Pete.

"I can't Artie. Not this time." She whispers and walks out of the kitchen too. As she walks away, she hears Istvan speaking quietly to Artie.

"Your team, she is falling apart." Too true Istvan, too true…

_***13*13*13*13***_

Myka didn't go looking for Pete when she left the kitchen. Instead she went into the living room and started reading the files they had on this blob of light stalking them as well as the artifact they were searching for.

She could hear Istvan and Artie moving around in the house. They were setting up shop in the garage and were busy building the machine that would destroy the ball of light. From what she could hear, they wouldn't finish in time, but it sure as hell wasn't going to stop them from trying though. After sitting and reading the files three times over again, Pete came into the living room and sat down next to her.

Myka didn't acknowledge his presence next to her. She simply kept on reading. The fact that he'd bolted earlier told her all she needed to know about his emotional state.

"Sorry." Pete mumbled, staring at his shoes.

"For what?" Myka asks and turns the page, reading on.

"Running out earlier, in- in your room, and then in the kitchen too. I-" Pete sighs deeply and continues after a few minutes of silent contemplation. "I don't know what we're doing here Myka. And this plan of Artie's, it's idiotic. I know he's been putting out necks out there for a while now, but come on, this is a bit extreme." Pete chuckles slightly, causing Myka to look at him.

"Same thing that could kill us could save us." Myka nodded in strange understanding. Setting the files down next to her and getting to her feet, Myka reaches for Pete's hand to pull him up. Pete just arches his brow and looks at her suspiciously.

"We need to get out of this house. Even if it is just for a little while." Myka says firmly and heads into the kitchen. She calls through the kitchen that they were going for a walk and they would be back later. All she got in reply was a few grunts and a call of yes. In any other situation that might have been blushworthy or worrying.

Myka pulled on her jacket and then her gloves. Her ears were thankfully protected by her hair.

"Come on Pete. Don't make me wait for you." She says teasingly and slips on her boots. She could almost hear the smile in Pete's voice as he replies.

"Yes mother."

As soon as he's ready, they walk out the front door and out of the yard.

"Which way, mother hen?" Pete asks and nudges her shoulder. Myka cocks her brow and turns right, heading out of town.

"Aw, no coffee run?" Pete complains as he catches up to her. They walk in silence for a few blocks, until Pete awkwardly clears his throat.

"We don't have to talk Pete. We can just walk and enjoy the peace and quiet while we still can." Myka says as she bundles her jacket closer to her body. The wind was picking up and blowing her hair every which way it could. Her ears were starting to freeze off and the cold was creeping down to her shoulders. Myka Bering _sure as hell_ isn't made for the cold.

Myka takes note of their surroundings. The houses are more dilapidated the further they move away from the town. A few blocks further, Pete pulls on her arm, turning him to face her. He doesn't say anything, just kisses her. It's a sweet kiss. He doesn't make any further move. When he pulls away, Myka looks dazedly into his eyes and doesn't fight when he pulls her against his side and starts walking back toward the house. His arm around her shoulder warms her back up a little.

Myka finds herself not thinking about the few kisses they have shared. It's so wondrously complicated in an uncomplicated way. He doesn't say he wants to marry her, and she doesn't say she wants to have his babies, like most people would have done. They just comfort each other. They don't promise things they can't give, and she knows that, without even having to hear it from him.

When they get back to the house, the light is slowly starting to fade as night comes ever closer and their impending doom looms like a mountain in front of them. They don't speak as they enter the house. Both taking off their jackets and heading into the living room to find Istvan and Artie setting up the machine.

"How did you finish it so quickly?" Myka asks astonished. Artie and Istvan grin at each other and then at her and Pete.

"Found a short-cut through the schematics." Artie says proudly. Myka wants to turn to Pete and yell that he doesn't have to go through with this planned foolishness anymore, but her words dry in her throat when she turns to him.

"Yeah, not helping right now, is it?" Pete says sarcastically as the air in front of him begins to shimmer, light blue color filtering out as the center starts to turn a darker blue. The temperature in the room seems to drop drastically. Myka feels gooseflesh rising on her arms. Istvan and Artie desperately try to get the machine up and running before this thing could fully materialize. She knows that they are not going to make it. This thing is early and they won't make it. _They're all going to die._

The darker blue filters out as an almost purple-blue color forms in the middle. A new color, Myka notes. 'This can NOT be a good thing' her mind yells at her. The face is forming now. A small, petite nose with full lips is all she can make out. The mouth opens again in a silent heart-breaking scream Myka can't even hear.

She feels herself reaching toward Pete and meeting nothing but air. This snaps her out of her stupor. Pete is moving toward it, a resigned look on his face. Everything seems to move in slow motion as she screams his name. Istvan and Artie look up in alarm. Pete is mere centimeters away from the thing.

Myka feels her heart stop as Pete readies himself to step forward. He turns back to her and whispers "Run." to her. With his next step, Pete vanishes along with the light. Myka feels the panic bubble up her throat and is about to yell, when she sees light coming into the windows. There is someone outside. _A whole lot of someones_. She hears Istvan curse something in Russian and she ducks down, reaching for her boots.

"Istvan, is there another way out of here?" She whispers. Istvan nods and moves quietly toward the kitchen. Myka and Artie follow closely behind him as they sneak through the kitchen. A window breaks in the living room and the front door is smashed open. In a panicked agreement, the three of them move quicker than before. Istvan opens a cabinet and pushes the back of the cabinet away. He quickly herds Artie and Myka into the small space, followed by himself, as he closes the cabinet and false back.

"This comes out behind big bush at back of house. Ready to run." Myka curses herself as she checks for her gun, only to find nothing there. She left it in her room. Istvan breaks something and faint light filters into the cubby-like space they find themselves. Istvan looks back and mouths 'run.'

They move as quickly as they can from the small space and start running as fast as they can. There is a wooden wall between this yard and the next. Myka runs faster so that she can get up the wall quickly and help Artie over, when Istvan shoulders the wall. He breaks through the wall and keeps running. Neither Artie not Myka even want to ask how the hell he managed to do that with his scrawny body. They just keep running.

Istvan jumps over the next low hedge and cuts over into a different yard. Myka can hear the people looking for them, catching up. Gunshots are flying past them, hitting the hedges, wood, windows from the houses they are flying past, yet they do not stop. They do not even stop as Myka feels a sting in her shoulder and another in her hip. They keep running.

Artie falls behind a little. There's blood on his clothes. Istvan and Myka each grab an arm and tug him to keep up with them. They run down the street, ducking into yards as the gunshots get a little danger close again.

"We are nearly in the woods. Come Arthur." Istvan pants and tugs Artie forward. Istvan doesn't stop pushing them until they reach the woods. They duck between the trees as whistling noises zoom past them and trees transform into splinters a few feet in front of them. Istvan runs through the black smoke and jumps over the fallen logs.

He suddenly stops and reaches into the snow, pulling open a hatch.

"Get in!" He nearly yells and Myka pushes Artie into the hole with force and jumps down after him. Half a second after she moves away from the opening, Istvan drops down and pulls the hatch closed. He is panting and bloody. Hell, they are all panting and bloody.

Myka moves Artie over to a small wooden chair next to an equally small wooden table. His face is pale and his clothes are quite bloody.

"Where are you shot?" Myka asks, starting to check his arms and finding nothing. Artie smacks her hands away and indicates to his ear. A bullet seems to have grazed it, and blood is moving in a steady stream down his neck and coats his clothes in more blood.

"That's it?" She asks and he only nods. He seems to have swallowed his tongue. Istvan hands him a small glass and Artie takes it eagerly.

"Vodka?" Myka asks.

"Sugar water." Istvan replies. Myka smiles slightly and nods at Istvan.

"You hit anywhere?" Istvan shakes his head.

"I have been shot at many times, bit dis, dis was personal. I am lucky they aim is off." He says and slumps a little against the metal wall.

Myka notices for the first time where they are. It looks like an old time bomb shelter, except it has two beds, two walls with supplies and another wall with medical supplies.

"You're prepared." Myka says and nods toward the walls. The stinging in her shoulder and hip is becoming unbearable.

"You are shot." Istvan states and points to her hip. "We must clean and remove bullet." He walks toward the medical supplies and starts fiddling around. There are footsteps above them. Myka finds it strange that she can hear them in the first place. A chilling voice calls out into the woods. Myka can just about see her ruby red lips.

"You can't hide forever."

_***13*13*13*13***_

Istvan wraps gauze over Myka's shoulder wound. She's so near to passing out from the pain that her eyes droop en her body goes slack. Artie releases a choking sound from the back of his throat and nearly sobs out.

"Where did Pete go?" He asks in agony.

"Same thing that could kill us could save us." Myka mumbles and passes out.

_***13*13*13*13***_

_**A/N:**_ Sorry for the incredibly late update. I spent my December holiday working, and I was muchly too pooped to even attempt an update. I'd just have messed it up anyway.

This is just a filler chapter. We're getting into the good stuff now! The last chapter only got about three reviews… Little disappointing. Are you guys even still reading this?

Anyway, please drop a review and tell me what you think, both good and bad!

_**Merry (late) Christmas and Happy (early) New Year !**_


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